by Daniel Njoroge
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| Caspar David Friedrich Wanderer above the Sea of Fog 1818 |
Destiny unveils
its face, And to
the man shall it
softly whisper
Upon which path
he will prevail on.
Then and only then,
Will the man see
What he was cut to be.
Yet to a foolish man,
His eyes rest bolted,
For busy is he chasing
After the wind, that
he sees not the time rise,
Nor does he give ear
To the gentle whisper
That destiny should wind.
Then upon the setting
Of time and the parting
Of destiny to a foreign
Land, does the man weep
And teeth nails in fear.
He is but only a man who
gathers not water
While intermittent brooks
Snakes through his land,
And only when they dry,
Does he move and cry
About until the setting
Of his days upon the earth.
It is best this man was
Never born, for a man
With no destiny is as
The wind he was chasing-
And forever more shall he
Wheeze upon the earth
with no purpose, Awaiting
His wings to molt off
And free him.
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